


Diva On A Half Shell

by GriefofDawn (acs)



Series: The Diva Chronicles [2]
Category: Gilmore Girls, Glee, The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, New York City, Once more with Bunnies, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sequel, Stars Hollow, Sunnydale, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acs/pseuds/GriefofDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kissing was the easy part. A year in the life of a former Bunny and a Diva.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Fox owns the Glee money making machine and RBI came up with the original show idea. Still not mine.  
>  **Pairing/Character:** Quinn/Rachel  
>  **When/Where:** AU. Sequel to ' A Pocketful of Quinn'  
>  **FYI:** I don't know how many 'episodes' there will be - but at least 2 dozen ficlets ( of 1000 words or more) covering the year after their first kiss.  
>  **Word Count:** 1,015 ( 1 of ?)  
> 

Stepping quietly into the living room, Rachel stared at her girlfriend sprawled out on the couch, an arm touching the floor, pillow over her face. Girlfriend. A word she would never have associated with her significant other back in high school. There'd been something about high school Quinn that she'd been attracted to, like a moth to a flame, but it had been nothing like now. Back then she'd just assumed it was part of her desire to be part of the popular crowd, instead of the Broadway obsessed outsider she truly was. Now, her day wasn't complete without some show of affection from Quinn. 

If they hadn't shared an apartment, six months before their first kiss, six months of slowly learning the rhythms of friendship, she suspected their relationship would have never happened. But now their relationship was going through another phase. An important one according to Kurt. Personal boundaries were being redefined. As friends, they'd rarely come into physical contact. The occasional hug, sure, but in an awkward way. 

As her girlfriend, Rachel had no qualms about sitting down next to Quinn, laying on the couch like she was now, and running her hand along her girlfriends bare arms or shoulders. No qualms about initiating physical contact. Granted, in the month since they'd become girlfriends they hadn't gotten past first base, but they'd agreed to go at their own pace. It was something new for both of them, exploring intimacy with another woman. 

Rachel blushed, as she thought about how she'd tried to rush Quinn that first week. Assuming she'd be willing to jump into the community with both feet, ready to not just come out but become active in a big way. She'd been one phone call away from volunteering them to host a fundraiser for Pride Day. 

Until Kurt had read her the riot act. He'd been happy for them, truly, but he'd forced her to sit down and think about her actions for once. To really think about how Quinn, the woman who guarded her privacy with an iron fist, would react to other people knowing her business. 

"You're thinking too hard," Quinn said, pulling off the pillow to give her a thoughtful look. 

"How can you tell?" Rachel asked. 

"You're humming," Quinn said. 

"What's wrong with humming?" Rachel asked. 

"Cecilia?" Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"What's wrong with a little Simon and Garfunkel?" Rachel asked, wondering how she was able to do that lying down. 

"We're not sixty year old baby boomers? And they didn't write show tunes?" 

"I was just thinking," Rachel said. 

"About?" 

"Us." 

"I can see where that would lead to humming," Quinn said, shaking her head, her eyes twinkling. 

"Don't laugh at me!" 

"I'm not laughing at you," Quinn said. "You can be adorable when you think no one is watching. What were you thinking about?" she asked again, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Rachel and pull her down on top of her. 

"I've been talking with my agent," she said, knowing bringing up Kurt would be a bad idea even if she'd talked with him first. "I want to become more active in the community." 

"Community?" Quinn asked, softly kissing her neck. 

"The LGBT community," Rachel said. "I think we could be a good example." 

"But?" Quinn said. 

"But... I was reminded that this affects your life also," Rachel said. "Are you ready to be known as the girlfriend of an actress? For the world to know you're a lesbian." 

"Um..." Quinn sighed, her warm breath tickling Rachel's left ear. "What did your agent say? How is this going to affect your career?" 

"I'm just a minor Broadway actress," Rachel said. "No one is going to care." 

"Minor? Rachel Berry? Never!" Quinn said kissing her nose. 

"I'm being realistic, Quinn," Rachel said. "Ten years ago? Coming out would have killed my career so fast but now it isn't a big deal. It might make things a little harder but not impossible." 

"And your agent? What'd she say?" 

"She wants me to wait until after my first Tony or Emmy before riding on floats in Pride parades or appearing on the cover of "Out"," Rachel said. 

"You did tell her you have a girlfriend?" Quinn said. 

"Yes," Rachel said. She didn't think telling Quinn how disappointed her agent had been that her girlfriend was Quinn would help. 

"And that was okay?" Quinn asked. 

"I didn't give her a choice," Rachel said. 

"A butch Berry?" Quinn said, amused. "I wish I'd been there to see that." 

Rachel blushed. "I did have to promise to not go out of my way to advertise our relationship." 

"Okay. I should probably cancel that billboard in Times Square asking you to marry me," Quinn said with a straight face. 

"You didn't!" Rachel said, gasping. 

"No," Quinn said laughing. 

"Good," Rachel said, throwing the pillow on the floor, and attacking Quinn in retaliation. 

"Stop!" Quinn said, giggling as she tried to avoid Rachel's fingers. 

"Promise you won't propose in such a tacky way!" Rachel said. "Promise!" 

"I promise! I promise!" Quinn said, sitting up to get away from her fingers. "Wait, why am I the one proposing?" Quinn asked. 

"It's years away, Quinn," Rachel said. "You can't ask me before I win my first Oscar." 

"Is that the plan?" Quinn asked, poking her. "Dreaming big?" 

"One of us has to," Rachel said haughtily. 

"We've only been dating for a month," Quinn reminded her. "Do you really see us getting married?" 

"Planning ahead is very important," Rachel said. "If it happens I will be ready." 

"So, your Oscar speech is ready to go?" Quinn asked, winking at her. 

"Only the basic outline," Rachel said. "Thanking family and friends for their support. that kind of thing. Anything more is difficult without knowing the role I'm nominated for. But you better have that ring ready when they call my name." 

"Of course, Miss Rachel 'Diva' Berry," Quinn said, miming getting down on one knee in front of Rachel. 

"I knew you'd see it my way," Rachel said, pulling her girlfriend into a hug.


	2. Opening Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Quinn/Rachel, Santana/Brittany, others mentioned.  
>  **When/Where:** AU. Broadway. Opening night.  
>  **Note:** I've never been to an opening night for a show on Broadway so... don't expect it to be like this if you ever go.  
>  **Word Count:** 1,188 (2 of ?)

Santana had been uncharacteristically quiet when she'd stopped at the hotel to pick them up in the limousine Rachel had insisted they rent for the evening. She'd never been much for polite small talk but Quinn was still surprised since this was probably the only time it would be just the three of them for the rest of the weekend. Once they reached the theater, there would be crowds of fans and friends. Then the after party where all eyes would be on Rachel and the rest of the cast.

"Say something," she demanded, in a low voice, even though the driver couldn't hear them through the privacy shield.

"I'm speechless," Santana said, smirking. "If I'd known that all it would take is some Berry juice to bring back out the hotness," she waved at Quinn's red dress, "I would have done something years ago."

"You are hot, Q," Brittany added, smiling. "Cyber you was scrumptious, but this happy you is super sexier."

"Thanks Britt," Quinn said, blushing. "Are you enjoying everything?"

"The hotel's awesome, right San?" Brittany said.

"Must have set Berry back quite a bit," Santana said. "Who else is gonna be there?"

Quinn decided not to tell her old friends that she'd been the one to pay for their trip to the city. Let them think Rachel was being even more generous. It might make things run smoother between them later. "A few of the old gang," she said. "Tina's too pregnant to travel so she and Mike won't be there, but she saw the show a few months ago so she's okay with that. Artie's on a business trip to Hong Kong and won't be back until Wednesday and Mercedes is on tour."

"She dropped in to say hi last week," Brittany said, bouncing excitedly. "She's really excited about the tour."

"Yeah, that whole jellin on Berry thing from high school? No sign of it," Santana said.

"She wasn't really jealous, San. She was just scared that she'd get stuck in Lima when Rachel became famous," Brittany said. "You promised you wouldn't go stirring things up."

"You're ruining my fun, babe," Santana said, pouting. Shaking her head, she turned back to Quinn, winking at her. "So, anyone else important?"

"Beth is too young to see it, but Puck's bringing Shelby," Quinn said.

"How'd that go over with Alice?"

"Alice?" Quinn asked cautiously. Sometimes, dealing with Santana was like juggling rotten eggs.

"Sexy White Rabbit," Santana said, smirking and poking Quinn.

"What's that make you?" Quinn asked, frowning.

"Smarter than you," she said. "Brit and I do just fine without that role playing shit."

"I've always wanted to be Dorothy. She danced all the way to Oz." Brittany said. "You can be my princess, Ozma, San."

Quinn looked at Santana out of the corner of her eye, not surprised to see the faint glint of tears. She tried to think of a quick distraction. "Karofsky will be there with his boyfriend," she said.

"Boyfriend? I knew it!" Santana said. "The gaydar never lies. I was right about you, and Berry. And him."

"San, we knew he was a dolphin in high school," Brittany said. "That's why he was so mean. The dark closet was hurting him."

"He never officially came out," Santana protested. "It was all rumors."

Mission accomplished, Quinn thought, satisfied. Now they just had to make it to their seats and through the after party.

"Are Rachel's dads going to be there?" Brittany asked.

"They're on a second honeymoon in Australia," Quinn said. "They'll see it when they get back."

"They should have changed their trip," Santana said grumpily. Quinn agreed but had no plans to voice her opinion since Rachel claimed to be fine with their absence. "Have you heard from anyone else? I bet ol' Schuester made an excuse to skip." 

"Mr. Schuester is bringing the club for a school trip next month," Quinn said, grimacing.

"And I bet he hit her up for free tickets." Santana said sarcastically. "Typical. Probably thinks her success was all because of him. Who else? Finnept?"

"No, he's on manuevers. Kurt will be there, of course, but he's already seen it. He wants to meet some important fashion diva who's one of the backers." Quinn said. 

"Still pushing his hats and scarves?" Santana asked. "Wanted us to let him outfit our staff."

"I still think they would have been cute," Brittany said, pouting. "You didn't have to throw him out."

"Babe, no self respecting rainbow hottie would go near our place if we started taking fashion advice from Kurt," Santana said, dismissively. "He thinks we all dress like Ellen."

"He designed this dress," Quinn said softly, winking at Brittany when Santana wasn't looking.

"No way!" Santana blurted out, leaning back to get a better look. "Who helped him?"

"No one," Quinn said, unwilling to admit that she'd given him a sketch she'd drawn as a starting point. Before Santana could say anything more, they were pulling up in front of the theater.

"So what's the deal?" Santana asked, looking at the small crowd after following Quinn out of the limo. "Why didn't you do the red carpet thing with the munchkin?" She turned back and helped Brittany, wrapping a supportive arm around her waist as she carefully exited the limo.

Quinn shrugged. "It didn't seem appropriate," she said, placing herself so that Brittany was between herself and Santana as they walked up to the theater door, past the flashing cameras and gawkers hoping to catch sight of any celebrities.

"She's your girlfriend, Q!" Santana said.

"Can we discuss this later?" Quinn asked, in a low voice. Rachel had understood her desire to stay in the background, even if she hadn't been happy about it. 

* * *

"Hi!" Quinn said, smiling down at Rachel, who was positively glowing as she joined Quinn at the bar.

"Did you like it?" she asked, her brown eyes faintly anxious. "Did Santana and Brittany like it? Where are they?"

Quinn pointed over her shoulder towards the small dance floor where her two old friends slowly danced, gracefully floating in their own private bubble.

"Oh!" Rachel said. Leaning against Quinn, she watched them for several minutes, sipping on the cocktail her girlfriend had handed her.

"Who's coming back to the apartment?" Rachel asked. "Besides Santana and Brittany?"

"Kurt, if you can drag him away," Quinn said, pointing at Kurt, Karofsky, and several others across the room.

"Drag him away from Miranda Priestly? He'd never forgive me," Rachel said, sipping her drink. "Did Puck make it?" she asked, standing on her toes and trying to spot him in the crowd.

"He brought Shelby, but she had to get back," Quinn said.

"Oh," Rachel said, frowning. "Did they like it?"

"They said yes," Quinn said. "Shelby apologized for not staying for the party and said she would call you tomorrow."

"Okay," Rachel said. "Let's join them," she said, gesturing at Santana and Brittany. Putting her drink down on the bar, she held out her hand when the music changed.

Giving her a small smile, Quinn allowed herself to be guided out onto the dance floor.


	3. Hummeled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Quinn, Kurt Hummel, Dave Karofsky, others mentioned.  
>  **When/Where:** AU. Post Opening night (by several weeks). Quinn's office - lunch  
>  **Word Count:** 1,307 (3 of ?)  
> 

Stepping out of the elevator, Quinn cautiously approached her office. She'd been in one meeting after another with the mayor's office all morning, doing her least favorite part of her job, dealing with politicians and the City Planning Commission. It wasn't her job to stop development in the city but at least once a month she had to fight for more time to document a historic site before contractors and their crews, bulldozers and shovels destroyed it. 

Today had been more successful than most. She'd finally convinced the right people that it would go a lot faster if she could hire some help, though she suspected the budget the Mayor's Office would give her would barely cover the cost of an intern or two. But it was still progress. 

On her way back, when she'd stopped to pick up a sandwich, Dave had txt'd her a warning that Kurt was waiting for her at the office, though he hadn't given her many details - something about a dress and a picture of her on some gossip blog, but it was enough that she was tempted to stay out in the city for the rest of the day. If Rachel hadn't been busy at the theatre and everything she needed for field work had not been in her desk she would have just kept going. There was an old theater down by the wharf that was right in the middle of a planned mall she'd been meaning to look at. 

But this was just Kurt, she reminded herself, as she firmly opened the door. She was dating, living with in fact, one high maintenance diva. She could handle Kurt. On a scale of one to Rachel Berry, he barely counted as a minor annoyance. 

Nodding to Dave, she strolled casually to her desk, ignoring Kurt sitting on the leather sofa next to the door. Placing her lunch on one corner, she pulled several folders out of her bag and put them in her desk. 

"Lucy, you have some 'splaining to do," Kurt said, shaking a finger at her, his voice a bad imitation of Ricky Ricardo. 

"I don't need to explain anything," she told him dismissively, placing several paper napkins on her desk. Opening the brown paper bag, she removed her sandwich, a small bag of Doritos, and a juice box. Holding up the chips, she waved them at Dave. At his nod, she tossed them to him across the room. 

Unwrapping the sandwich, she took a bite before placing it in the middle of one of the napkins. 

"I was preparing to come to see you about your dress last week," he began, "when I ran across this little gem." Reaching into his man-bag, he pulled out a large piece of paper and handed it to her. 

Raising an eyebrow, she took the paper. It was a print-out from some fashion blog, she assumed. Taking up half the page was a photo of herself, Brittany, and Santana, about to enter the theater. "And?" she said. 

"Read the fine print," he said smugly. 

"Blah, blah, nice dress from up and coming designer Kurt Hummel, blah," Quinn muttered. 

"We do need to discuss the dress, but look closer," he said, smirking. 

"Lucy Q, and friends go to girlfriend Rachel Berry's opening night on Broadway!" Quinn read. Shaking her head, Quinn took another bite of sandwich, trying to appear calm. "Not sure what you want me to say," she said, licking the tips of her fingers before wiping them with a napkin. 

"I did some research on this Lucy Q," he told her, giving her a smirk. "Since you seem to be keeping your little foray into the clutches of Hugh Hefner's evil empire a secret, I thought you could do me a small favor." 

"There's no big secret," Quinn said, shaking her head. "I had my reasons for using an alias. Besides, it was years ago and the people who matter do know about it. No one else cares," she added, hoping it would stop him. 

"I'm hurt you didn't think I could be trusted with this secret, but I can work with that," Kurt said, giving her a faux frown. "But you still owe me a favor." 

"What kind of favor," Quinn asked, glaring at him in passing, as she got up to throw the remains of her lunch away. 

"The dress." 

"What about it," Quinn said. 

"Runway does this feature every quarter on new faces in fashion, on their website, and I've been asked to contribute," he said. 

"What does that have to do with me?" Quinn asked, suspiciously. 

"Miranda Priestly wants to feature the dress you wore to Rachel's opening night," he said. 

"You can have the dress back," Quinn said. 

"She would also like to use your sketch," Kurt said. "And she'll let me pick my own model." 

"I gave you the sketch," Quinn said. "Do whatever you want with it." 

Kurt nodded. Reaching back into his bag, he pulled out a folder and handed it to her. Opening it up, she saw what looked like a standard model release form, and her original sketch. 

"What I want, is for you to model the dress as Lucy Q," Kurt said, "and give me first dibs on any future designs." 

"Find someone else to wear the dress," Quinn said firmly. "And I just gave you the sketch. Do whatever you want with it." 

"I can't do that," Kurt said, shaking his head. "I know we aren't really friends, and don't argue about that," he added, waving a hand in dismissal. "The only thing we agree on is how special Rachel is. This dress is something different. I'm good but I couldn't have come up with it on my own. It has a flare that's you, not me." 

"I'm not a designer," Quinn said. "I'm a historian." 

"And underneath all that educated, professional exterior, you're still Quinn Fabray, Head Cheerio, and Sue Sylvester protege," Kurt told. 

"What does that even mean?" Quinn asked, frowning at the smirk Dave gave her before going back to his own lunch. 

"Everything you do is about control," Kurt said. "Doing this will give you one more thing about Rachel that you can control. Once she sees what I can do with your designs she won't wear anything else. Besides, I told Miranda that the dress was a collaboration." 

"I don't control Rachel!" Quinn protested. "Have you met the woman?" 

"I've been there for THE woman," Kurt said, shaking his head. "While you were off proving whatever it was you were trying to prove with that Lucy Q stunt, I was there for all of the heartbreak Finn put her through when she started NYADA. All the midnight breakdowns when some two-bit has-been stomped all over her dreams. She's my best friend. Who are you?" 

Quinn stared at him, unable to think of a comeback. She wasn't that controlling, was she? That Quinn was buried at sea, cremated, and locked in Azkaban, long before she set foot out of Lima. Wasn't she? 

"I thought so," Kurt said. "Rachel's show hasn't been on Broadway long enough for any Tony noms, but a little bird told me that she might be asked to do something that night, so she'll need another dress. I'll want sketches for dresses for both of you." 

"Kurt…" 

"No arguments," he said, "Sign on the dotted." After she grudgingly signed the release form, Kurt grabbed the folder from her desk and put it back in his bag. 

"You have a month," he said. Nodding to Dave, he squared his shoulders and slipped out of their office. 

"What just happened?" Quinn said, staring at the closed door in disbelief. 

"You just got Hummeled," Dave said, laughing and ducking the wadded up ball of paper she threw at him.


	4. Story Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Quinn/Rachel, others mentioned.  
>  **When/Where:** AU. A quiet evening at home.  
>  **Word Count:** 1,312 (4 of ?)

Humming tiredly to herself, Rachel leaned against the back of the small elevator. When she was in high school and earlier, back in Lima, she'd dreamed of working on Broadway. Dreamed of the adulation of her fans. Dreamed of working towards that well deserved EGOT.

But she'd never imagined how exhausted she would be after a week of shows. How glad she would be to head home to her quiet apartment and her girlfriend. Granted, she'd never imagined having a girlfriend. Fortunately, this wasn't her first show, so she was used to the pace of living on Broadway time. But she'd built up an immunity to it over the years. Straight out of Lima, this schedule would have left her catatonic or driven her crazy. Crazier.

The chiming of the elevator, just before the door opened on her floor, roused her from her thoughts. Grabbing her bag and purse, she stumbled out into the hallway and slowly made her way to her apartment door.

Slowing opening it, Rachel listened for her girlfriend. Teen Rachel would have expected Quinn to come to every show, but more mature Rachel knew that she couldn't expect Quinn to dance attendance on her, no matter how much she would like her to. Her girlfriend had a full time job and a life outside of the theater that consumed most of Rachel's energy. But she'd insisted that Quinn at least let her know if she was going to be out so she wouldn't worry.

Their relationship was building slowly, at Quinn's speed. There'd been no dramatic declarations of love, just simple dates and long conversations over coffee. And kissing. A lot of kissing. Quinn was not a very emotional person in public. One could almost call her stoic. The hard earned high school label Ice Princess still seemed appropriate at times. But in private? Quinn liked physical contact, liked to cuddle and to just hold her in her arms. And Rachel wouldn't have it otherwise, Quinn's arms wrapped around her.

Slipping into the apartment, she quietly made her way to the living room, dropping her purse and bag in the kitchen in passing, hoping Quinn was still up. They still had separate bedrooms but they often fell asleep on the couch together and occasionally she was able to drag a sleepy Quinn back to her bed for a night of cuddling.

Quinn seemed in no hurry to take their relationship to the next level and Rachel was following her lead, but she knew that something would happen eventually. Sooner if she had her way. In preparation, she'd been quietly doing some research so she wouldn't be unprepared. Just thinking about that caused her to blush.

She'd grown up with the Internet so she knew the phrase 'If someone thought of it, you can find it somewhere out there' was a truism. But she still found herself shocked at some of the things she'd encountered in her research. It was probably a good idea she'd decided to not consult with Brittany or Santana about any of it, she thought. She'd never have lived it down. And a permanent blush would be difficult to hide, even with stage makeup.

Peeking into the living room, she could see Quinn's head poking up above the back of the couch, her glasses perched cutely on her nose. Until she'd seen Quinn wearing her glasses she'd never quite understood the whole librarian fetish thing but now she got it. And approved, as long as she was the only one looking at Quinn that way.

Grinning, catching her second wind, Rachel threw herself onto the couch next to Quinn. "What's that?" she asked, poking her girlfriend to get her attention, not that Quinn was actually ignoring her but sometimes she could get very absorbed in whatever book she was currently reading. 

"What's what?" Quinn asked, looking up briefly to kiss her hello, before going back to her book.

"That!" Rachel said, pointing at a large brown envelope on the coffee table being used as a coaster.

"Nothing important," Quinn told her, her eyes briefly flickering down to look at it.

If Rachel hadn't known her better she would have believed the nonchalant dismissal. But there was just something too casual in Quinn's reply. "So, you don't mind if I take a look?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow in answer. Rachel wondered if she'd had to register it as a deadly weapon.

"Right. None of my business," Rachel said, sighing loudly. Pushing Quinn's book aside, she lay down, putting her head in Quinn's lap. "What are you reading?" she asked looking up at her girlfriend's bemused expression.

"A book," Quinn said, shaking her head. Holding her book up higher, above Rachel's head, she continued reading.

"You're ignoring me!" Rachel said, pouting. "Read to me. That's not some history book, is it?"

"No, not history," Quinn said, giving her a small smile. "Telzey Amberdon was one of my favorite characters back when I was Lucy."

"I would have thought you were more an Alice or Dorothy kind of girl," Rachel said.

"Dorothy consorted with witches and talking animals," Quinn said. "I didn't read any of the Oz books or see the movies until college. If our minister hadn't pushed it as some great Christian epic, I never would have read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe."

"But you were familiar with Wicked," Rachel said.

"Not until Glee," Quinn said absently, turning a page.

"What else did you miss?" Rachel asked, horrified. "You weren't exactly home-schooled."

"No, just certain things," Quinn said. "I read Harry Potter in the library. I could never have taken the books home. And Alice? You don't want to know what my father thought about that."

Rachel frowned at this. Quinn's childhood seemed so foreign to her at times. "So, who's this Telzey?" 

"She was an independent girl who discovered she could do things with her mind."

"What kinds of things?" Rachel asked, curious. She wondered how Quinn managed to slip this by her father. She'd have to remember to ask about that later.

"Mostly, she could read people's minds and influence them."

"Like in Harry Potter?" Rachel asked, vaguely remembering a plot point from the classic children's series. 

"Sort of?" Quinn said. "Except it isn't magic. It's set far in the future."

"I could see why that would be something you'd like," Rachel said, winking up at her. "I should have suspected you were an even bigger geek."

"You aren't earning any points here," Quinn said.

"Points? You're keeping score?" Rachel asked. "What do I get for my points?"

"Ten points a kiss," Quinn said.

"How many get me a hug?" Rachel asked.

"Fifty? One hundred?" Quinn said, winking at her.

"Do you get points?" Rachel asked. "How many do I give you for reading to me?"

"A thousand?" Quinn said.

"Only if you're good."

"I'm the best," Quinn said.

"Okay, go ahead," Rachel said, waving a hand in encouragement. "Read. Earn those points."

"If you insist," Quinn said.

"I do," Rachel said. "Enlighten me with your evening entertainment. From the beginning."

Shaking her head, Quinn flipped the pages of her book back to the beginning and began to read -

_"There was, Telzey Amberdon thought, someone besides TT and herself in the garden. Not, of course, Aunt Halet, who was in the house waiting for an early visitor to arrive, and not one of the servants. Someone or something else must be concealed among the thickets of magnificently flowering native Jontarou shrubs about Telzey."_

Rachel closed her eyes and listened to the soothing sound of Quinn's voice. She could listen to Quinn read a dictionary but getting insight into what made Quinn Quinn was a nice bonus. Rachel knew about the original Lucy, but Quinn never talked about that part of her life. She would take whatever Quinn was willing to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer update:**
> 
>  
> 
> Telzey Amberdon belongs to the estate of James H. Schmitz. Modern editions of all her adventures are published by Baen Books and are available DRM free from assorted ebook retailers.


	5. In the Mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Quinn/Rachel, others mentioned.  
>  **When/Where:** AU. Rachel checks the mail.  
>  **Word Count:** 1,160 (5 of ?)

Rachel was able to keep her curiosity about the envelope in check for two weeks. During those weeks, she noticed that the envelope seemed to have its own feet. In the morning when she woke up it would be in one room. While she was at the theater it seemed to move from one room to another, always ending up near Quinn by the time she got home.

As far as she could tell Quinn had yet to open it. She assumed Quinn knew the address and was just being stubborn for some unfathomable reason of her own.

The following Friday evening, at the start of one of Quinn's rare weekends in the city, she took matters into her own hands. "So, are you going to explain this?" she asked, grabbing the envelope from the kitchen table. "Why are you getting things with bunnies on them? Bunnies that look vaguely familiar. From California?"

Quinn snorted and put down her fork. Standing up she tried to retrieve the envelope, causing Rachel to backpedal into the fridge. 

"Give it back," Quinn said.

"Not unless you promise to open it," Rachel said, hiding it behind her back.

"Rachel, please…"

"Nu-uh. Not unless you promise," she said firmly, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue. Maturity was called for in such a delicate negotiation.

"I told you, it isn't important," Quinn muttered.

"If it wasn't important you would have opened it or thrown it away," Rachel said. "Therefore, it's elementary, my dear Fab. It's important."

"Fab?" Quinn said.

"You know, from that puppet show you were watching last night," Rachel said. "The one with all the rockets. They kept saying your name. I thought it was cute."

"F A B ?" Quinn grimaced. "That has nothing to do with me. And isn't my name."

"I didn't know you were into puppets," Rachel said, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm not, I'm helping Beth with a school project," Quinn said.

"Oh. Well. I still think you're FAB," Rachel said. "In a geeky sort of way. Now, about this envelope."

"I'm not opening it," Quinn said.

"You're not even curious about what's in it? Maybe it's money? Or a new history book?"

"No," Quinn said, holding out a hand.

"I think I'll keep it," Rachel said. "Wouldn't want it to be accidentally thrown out."

"Rachel," Quinn whinged.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of it," she said, winking at her girlfriend before slipping away. Suppressing a laugh, she walked back to her bedroom, putting a slight skip into her step. Opening her lingerie drawer, she slipped the envelope into the back. It was one place she knew Quinn would never look.

* * *

Stopping in the kitchen before rejoining Quinn on the couch, she poked at the small pile of mail sitting in the cute basket she'd picked up on a trip upstate with Kurt to see the Fall leaves the year before. 

One of the things she'd been surprised about, when Quinn had moved in, was how easily they'd agreed to deal with joint bill paying, something that had been a nightmare with her previous roommate. It initially took some coordination but things worked out satisfactorily, in her opinion.

Neither of them had money to burn, this early in their careers but Quinn had shown the zeal of an accountant navigating tax codes in setting up a joint bank account for shared expenses, into which they both deposited their monthly shares of the rent, utilities, and food money from their personal accounts. 

She'd even convinced Rachel to set up automatic payments where possible, cutting down on mail by more than half. Fortunately for Rachel, whom loved the idea of hand writing checks as a more satisfying personal way of dispensing her hard earned money, some business still didn't accept electronic payments so they still got some bills in the mail.

Quinn usually picked up the mail from their box in the lobby, throwing junk mail and other unwanted things into the building mail shredder. Sifting through the pile, leaving the few bills for later, Rachel found a postcard and a letter from Finn. Grabbing them, she hurried back to Quinn, who'd wandered into the living room.

"Did you see these?" Rachel asked, plopping down on the couch, and waving the postcard in Quinn's face.

"Oops," Quinn said, unsuccessfully trying to grab the postcard. "That should have gone in the shredder with everything else."

"Quinn!" Rachel said, glaring at her. "It's from Finn. I haven't heard from him in months."

"What's to hear?" Quinn said. "He's still bumming around."

"He's in Vancouver," Rachel said, looking at the postcard for a minute before carefully opening up the letter.

"Better there than here," Quinn muttered, picking up the remote and flipping channels, randomly stopping for a second here and a second there.

"Be nice!" Rachel said, grabbing the remote with her free hand, much to Quinn's displeasure. "He says he's been doing thing for one of the production studios out there. He's thinking of visiting the city this summer."

"Visiting who?" Quinn asked. 

"He doesn't say. I'm assuming Kurt," Rachel said, trying to understand what he'd written. Getting mail was exciting and she was always willing to hear how Finn was doing, but his handwriting wasn't the best. She often wished he'd send email instead.

"Well, he can't stay here," Quinn said. "He can't have my bed or yours and he'd squash the couch. I don't want to get a new couch, I like this one."

"I'll let Kurt know," Rachel said, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm sure he'll agree that it wouldn't be appropriate for him to stay with us."

"Good," Quinn grumbled.

Rachel sighed. "You have nothing to be jealous about," she said.

"He's an ex," Quinn said. "Of both of us! He's going to expect one of us to want him back. He always does."

"I don't want him," Rachel said, kissing Quinn on the cheek.

"I don't either," Quinn said, taking back the remote and flipping to the History channel.

"No problem then," Rachel said.

"If he stick his nose in our business…"

"He won't," Rachel said, her fingers crossed out of Quinn's sight. One of the drawbacks to remaining friends with Finn was his tendency to think he knew best when it came to the personal lives of any of his exes. He always took things so personally. She was going to have to remember to ask Kurt if he'd told his step brother, yet, that she and Quinn were not just cohabiting. Quinn just barely tolerated his name being mentioned, for some reason. Rachel couldn't imagine anything positive happening if he interfered now.

"He better not," Quinn said, wrapping an arm around Rachel and pulling her closer. Sighing, Rachel snuggled in, closing her eyes. Worrying about Finn could wait, she decided. There were more important things to do, she thought, breathing in Quinn's calming, unique scent, like what to make Quinn for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAB is a phrase from the 60's TV show Thunderbirds and reportedly stands for _Fully Advised and Briefed_ \- or in other words - "I heard what you said, and understood it."
> 
>  
> 
> **Reminder! Fan fiction. Not real!** Like this AU Quinn, I'm not a huge Finn fan, as some may have noticed. I have my reasons. But that has nothing to do with the actor who played him, who was reportedly a really nice person and whose tragic death affected a lot of people, family, fiancé, friends, and yes, even fans. And that's all I have to say about that issue.


	6. On a Park Bench

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Rachel  & Kurt, others mentioned.  
>  **When/Where:** AU. Rachel and Kurt take a walk in the park.  
>  **Word Count:** 1,181 (6 of ?)

Sitting on a bench in Central Park, Rachel gingerly sipped the no longer scalding hot coffee clutched between her hands. She hoped Kurt wouldn't be too late. He wasn't the most punctual person she knew but he normally didn't keep her waiting this long. And meeting here, instead of at their usual Broadway cafe, had been his idea.

"Rachel," his voice sounded in her left ear, causing her to jump in surprise.

"Don't do that!" she said, turning to give him a well deserved glare. "If I have a heart attack I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life."

"Sorry," he said, though his expression clearly indicated how un-sorry he was.

"Why did you want to meet here?" she asked after taking another sip of her rapidly cooling coffee.

"A little bird told me that you've been asked to sing at the Tonys next month," he said giddily, sitting down next to her.

"The entire cast has been asked to perform," she said, shaking her head at him. Not that she wasn't honored by the opportunity to perform in front of her peers but her part of the song they'd been asked to sing was barely thirty seconds long. 

"But you'll still be on stage at the Tonys," Kurt said happily. "And walking on the red carpet. You'll need several dresses."

"I'll just need one," Rachel said, correcting him, not bothering to explain she'd be in costume for the song. "There's plenty of time."

"And one for Quinn," he said, pulling a bright red binder out of his man-bag. "You did ask her, didn't you?"

"Not yet," Rachel said, not sure how to explain her girlfriend's reluctance to appear in the public eye. She understood Quinn's reasons, mostly, even if she didn't agree.

"Rachel Barbra Berry! This will be your first time on the Red Carpet at the Tonys. She has to go. They're a matching set."

"What are?" she asked.

Kurt silently held the open binder out to her. Putting her cup down, she took it from him. Looking down, she found herself looking at two sketches of Red Carpet worthy gowns. "These are wonderful!" she said, absorbing every detail of the elegance on display. "These are even better than the gown you made for Quinn. Where have you been hiding this talent?"

"The sketches aren't mine," he said reluctantly. "They're from my new collaborator."

"You didn't tell me you had a new partner," Rachel said, gently closing the binder and handing it back. "What're they like?"

"Not a new partner," Kurt protested. "This is just someone with the ability to sketch elegant clothes, which I then bring my own amazing talent to bear on and translate their ideas into something real."

"You'll have to introduce me," Rachel said, nodding to herself. The person who'd sketched those gowns was obviously very talented. She already knew which one would look best on Quinn.

"She prefers to be a silent collaborator," Kurt said. "but I'll see what I can do."

"Well, whomever she is, she deserves thanks and recognition," Rachel told him firmly. Talent like this needed to be nurtured, she decided. "So which one is for me?" she asked casually.

"This one," he said, reopening the binder and pointing at the figure with an empire waist, bare shoulders and a slit up the side.

"Quinn will look amazing in that gown," Rachel said. "I'll wear the other one." She pointed at the other gown.

"No," Kurt said firmly. "This one was specifically designed for you. It, and I quote, 'shows off your wonderfully long legs and frames your face above the perfection of your shoulders and perfectly proportioned breasts' unquote."

Raising an eyebrow in almost perfect imitation of a certain former Cheerio, Rachel looked at her uncomfortable looking best friend in astonishment. "Who said that?"

Shaking his head, Kurt pointed at the sketches.

"I'm flattered someone thinks so," Rachel said, suppressing a blush, "though you probably shouldn't repeat that in Quinn's presence. She can be a bit possessive," she added proudly.

"Who's the future Broadway star?" Kurt asked. "Who should be the focus of attention?"

"Me, of course," Rachel said. "But Quinn's the eye candy. All eyes should be admiring her on my arm."

"I can't believe you said that!" Kurt said, closing the binder and stuffing it back into his bag. "I'm not her biggest fan, in fact there are times she still scares me, but even I know better than to call her that. What would your fathers say!"

"It's true. She'd make me look plain and ordinary. You know it. And Quinn knows it. Which is why she probably won't go as my plus one," Rachel said, frowning into her cup. "She won't want to upstage me."

"She'll go," Kurt said. 

"How do you know?" Rachel asked. 

"I have my ways," he said, smugly. "I bet she'll say yes."

"No blackmailing my girlfriend!" Rachel said, standing up. "If she doesn't want to go, she doesn't have to."

"We'll see," he said, getting to his feet.

"Kurt?" Rachel asked, as they started walking. "When was the last time you heard from Finn?"

"He called me when he got to Vancouver," Kurt said. "Why?"

"Has he told you anything about his summer plans?"

"Finn doesn't make plans," Kurt said. "You know that."

"Well, he's making them now," Rachel told him. "He's coming here this summer!"

"Here here?" Kurt asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, and staring at her.

"Yes!" Rachel said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt. "And he can't stay with us!"

"Why would he stay with you?" Kurt asked.

"This is Finn we're talking about," Rachel said. Kurt could be self centered at times, worse than herself, but he couldn't possibly have forgotten how oblivious his stepbrother could be to the lives of others, she thought.

"Right. Finn. I'll make sure he stays with me." He shook his head and started walking, Rachel hurrying to keep up. "Does he know about you and Miss Fabray?"

"I didn't tell him. Did you?" Rachel asked.

"I didn't think Quinn would appreciate me interfering in her business," Kurt said, giving her a sideways look.

"So he doesn't know," Rachel mumbled, taking note of his expression. He'd obviously had a recent encounter with the glory that was 'Take No Prisoners Quinn' that Quinn hadn't told her about. "Would anyone else tell him?"

"No one has mentioned anything to me," Kurt said. "And I've been my usual discrete self."

"You, the fastest gossip in the city?" Rachel said, giggling. "When Sam got caught in Mercedes' dressing room last month, we all heard about it from you before it hit the blogs," Rachel said.

"That was different," Kurt said.

"How different?"

"That was amusing and wasn't a huge surprise," he said. "I'm not my brother. I'm not going to out my two favorite baby lesbians without their permission."

"That's sweet of you," she said, hugging him. "Come on, I need more coffee if we're going to keep gossiping." Grabbing his free hand, Rachel started walking faster. 


	7. Frosting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer Update:** Sunnydale belongs to Joss Whedon and Co. (And I suspect Fox Television own the rest of it). Also, this fic has no connection to the [Sunnydale Conspiracy](http://sdaleconspiracy.livejournal.com) web site or similar web sites.  
>  **Characters:** Rachel/Quinn.  
>  **When/Where:** AU. Rachel and Quinn make frosting and talk  
>  **Note:** This is a bit out of sequence, jumping several months ahead. It should be approximately no. 18 but I wanted to get out one for Halloween last year when I wrote this and I see no point in hanging onto it until then. The next installment will be back where it belongs in Rachel and Quinn's personal timeline.  
>  **Word Count:** 1,242 (7 of ?)

"Try this!" Rachel said, holding a spoon in front of Quinn's face.

"Rachel!" Quinn said, moving it away.

"Please?" Rachel said, sticking it in her face again.

Shaking her head, Quinn pointed the remote at the TV and paused her show. "What is it?"

"It's the frosting for the cupcakes for the party," Rachel said.

Quinn cautiously licked the spoon. "Interesting flavor," she said, suppressing a shudder at the flat chalky taste. "Is it vegan?"

"How'd you guess?" Rachel asked. "What do you think?"

"Honest answer?" Quinn asked. Rachel nodded.

"Is it that bad?" Rachel said, flopping onto the couch next to her with a sigh.

"It isn't going to win any awards," Quinn said. "There's too much of something in it."

"What's the flavor?" Rachel asked.

"Chalk?"

"There's no chalk in it," Rachel said, leaning her head against Quinn's shoulder. "What are you watching?" she asked, pointing at the TV, paused at a shot of a large lake from the air.

"It's a show about the top ten natural disasters of the last fifty years," Quinn said.

"That's not a cheerful subject," Rachel said. "What's that one?"

"The mysterious Sunnydale collapse," Quinn said. "An entire town in California fell into caverns below the town."

"I don't remember that," Rachel said.

"I'm not surprised," Quinn said. "Very few people do. Of course, we were eight when it happened."

"Did lot of people die?" Rachel asked.

"Now who's being morbid?"

"It's a natural question," Rachel said.

"If you say so," Quinn said. 

"Well?"

"That's part of the mystery. The townspeople started evacuating several days before it happened and no one knows why," Quinn said. "Before it filled in, and became that lake, the investigators discovered half a dozen bodies, all young women, where the local high school used to be."

"That's creepy," Rachel said, shivering.

"Yup. There are conspiracy websites and books devoted to the subject. They claim there was a cover-up. But Sunnydale seemed to be that kind of place. Lots of unexplained mysteries."

"Huh." Rachel frowned. "Why are you watching it? You don't usually go for that kind of thing."

"No, history is exciting enough without making up conspiracies," Quinn said. "It had a segment about New York and the Hurricane of 2012."

"Oh," Rachel said.

"That was your freshman year at NYADA, wasn't it."

"Yes."

"I never did hear what you did that week," Quinn said. "You didn't update your Facebook for weeks."

"You were checking out my Facebook?" Rachel said, surprised.

"Well, you never used that Metro-Pass or called me, so I had to keep track of you somehow."

"Kurt and my Dads knew where I was," Rachel said.

Quinn shook her head. "They weren't about to tell me where you were," she said.

"How do you know?" Rachel asked.

"They had no reason to," Quinn said. "So what did you do?"

Rachel looked at her for a minute before answering, sure there was something Quinn wasn't telling her. "My roommate's younger sister was a student at a private boarding school on the Hudson, up near Albany. A few of us stayed there until our dorm reopened and classes started. It was an interesting experience. What did you do that week?"

"Nothing quite so exciting," Quinn said. "Spent it with Shelby and Beth up in Boston."

"Oh," Rachel murmured.

"That's how Puck got his business started," Quinn added. "Doing hurricane clean up. He was busy for months."

"He mentioned something about that to me once," Rachel said, nodding. She stood back up. "Come on," she said, holding out a spoon free hand. "You can help me figure out what's wrong with the frosting."

"But…"

"You can tell me all about your Sunnydale theories," Rachel said, tugging on her girlfriend's hand.

"There are some doozies," Quinn said, following her into the kitchen. "There was supposed to be a secret military base under the college."

"Government conspiracies are good," Rachel said, lining up her frosting ingredients on the counter. "I'm assuming there's no proof."

"Not a scrap," Quinn said, bending down to look at the things on the counter. "What do you have?"

"Margarine, dark agave syrup, vanilla, cocoa powder, and soy milk powder," Rachel said, pointing to each. "All vegan."

"Hmmm…" Quinn pick each one up. She cautiously tasted the agave syrup, the vanilla, the cocoa and soy milk powder. "Not tasting it," she said. "Maybe it's the combination?"

"Okay." Rachel took out a clean mixing bowl. "I'll put in the ingredients. You can help mix."

"Okay."

"What other odd things happened in Sunnydale?" Rachel asked, watching Quinn folding the cocoa powder into the margarine, vanilla, and agave syrup mixture.

"Well, there seemed to be a lot of gas leaks. The high school blew up one graduation and they blamed it on a gas leak."

"Wow. What else?" Rachel asked.

"There was a sudden case of laryngitis," Quinn said. "No one in the town could talk. That was blamed on a gas leak."

"That must have been scary," Rachel said. Quinn nodded in agreement.

"And then there was Halloween," Quinn said. "One year, people claimed to turn into their costumes."

"That could be fun," Rachel said.

"It could be dangerous," Quinn said.

"How?"

"Think about it, Rach," Quinn said. "I know you'd probably dress up as one of your idols and serenade everyone, but what if someone suddenly thought they were Superman and tried to stop a train? Or jumped off a building thinking they could fly?"

"Oh!" Rachel gasped. "That could be bad. What other kinds of things happened?"

"Supposedly, there was a day when all of the adults started acting like teenagers."

"Gas leak?"

"Nope. Hallucinogenic candy," Quinn said, shaking her head at Rachel's frown. "The town was home to a large gang population. They always seemed to be on PCP, if one were to believe the police reports that survived."

"So the candy was plausible?"

"Yes, though there's no photographic evidence," Quinn said. "Do you think that's enough stirring?"

"Yes," Rachel said. "Ready to taste it?"

"Okay."

Rachel took out two clean spoons. Scooping up a small dab of frosting in each, she handed one to Quinn.

"Here goes," Quinn said, sticking the spoon in her mouth. "Are you sure this is the same recipe?"

"Definitely," Rachel said.

"Well, whatever is wrong with the first batch, this is good," Quinn said.

"Really?"

"Yup. You'd never know it was vegan," Quinn said, reaching for the bowl with her spoon.

"Don't do that!" Rachel said, grabbing the bowl.

"But. Frosting!" Quinn said, pouting.

"For the cupcakes," Rachel said, pointing at several rows of them on cooling racks on the kitchen table.

"If I help you frost, can I have one?"

"Maybe," Rachel said. "How much of that is true?"

"About Sunnydale?" Quinn asked. "I don't know. There's no proof for most of it."

"I think I would rather pretend it isn't," Rachel said, nodding to herself. "Let's go watch something cheerful and uplifting."

"With music?"

"Of course," Rachel said, smiling at her.

"Can we keep within today's theme?" Quinn asked hopefully.

"We haven't watched 'Wicked' in a while," Rachel said, leading the way back into the living room.

"Works for me," Quinn said, sitting down, pulling down Rachel with her.

"Quinn!" Rachel shrieked, cuddling up against her. Leaning down, Quinn kissed her before picking up the remote and flipping to their online movie collection.

"Hush! I'm trying to watch this," Quinn said, giggling at Rachel's affronted expression. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[1]** The vegan frosting recipe Rachel uses is from  www dot veganbakingsecrets dot com, though I haven't tried it myself.  
>  **[2]** This doesn't really fit with the rest of the series. Although this series includes characters and locations from _The Devil Wears Prada_ , and _The Gilmore Girls_ it isn't really much of a crossover. I'm not really sure I want to add _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ to the mix so this might be an AU episode of the whole AU story thing. There might be no other references to things Buffy in the rest of this story. Or I might merge this story into an existing Gilmore Girls/Buffy crossover I'm writing, which would require only a minor change. Only time will tell.


	8. Envelope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a former Bunny to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer Update:** Stars Hollow and its denizens belong to others.  
>  **Characters:** Rachel/Quinn.  
>  **When/Where:** _Reminder - Seriously AU. Pretend Glee Season 4 didn't happen that way, and lots of Season 3 was different._ Quinn opens an envelope.  
>  **Word Count:** 1,511 (8 of ?)  
> 

Quinn looked up from her book at the sound of a large object hitting the coffee table with a loud thump. It was the envelope she'd been avoiding thinking about for weeks now. That Rachel had hidden away, so she wouldn't throw it out. Her girlfriend stood there, frowning, arms crossed, in the open space between the TV and the table. At least she hadn't gotten to the foot tapping stage, Quinn thought. 

"You need to open this," Rachel said, tapping the envelope. 

"Why?" Quinn asked, closing her book. 

"I spoke with Amanda today," Rachel said. "She was approached by a well known magazine for an interview. With me." 

"And?" Quinn said. "What does your agent want?" 

"I… they had a request," Rachel said, nervously biting her lip. "They want to use pictures of you with the interview. Among other things. She wants you to think about it." 

"Okay…" Quinn said, puzzled. She could be in magazine pictures to help Rachel out. 

"You need to open that," Rachel said again, waving at the envelope. 

Quinn grunted. She'd known who it was from as soon as she'd seen the bunny on the label. Rachel pushed it closer. "What magazine?" she asked, pushing it back. 

"Amanda says it would be good for my career," Rachel said, not answering her. "Opportunities like this don't happen every day. And she's already talked with the producers to get their buy-in. They want to have a meeting with the investors, Amanda, myself, and you before they approve it." 

"Why me?" Quinn asked, leaning back and covering her eyes with her arm. 

"Open the envelope," Rachel said once more. 

"I already know what's in it," Quinn said. "I don't need to open it." 

"What do you think it is?" Rachel asked. 

"Now that we're an us," she vaguely waved her free hand, "they want to take advantage of our 'this' to sell magazines and other things," she said. 

"Who owns the pictures you did for them?" Rachel asked. 

"I own them," Quinn said. "Mostly. I kept the rights to most of them and licensed their use. If they use them anywhere except their Cyber Girl site they have to pay me. Or anyone else who wants to legally use them. And next year most of the remaining web publishing rights revert back to me." 

"Is that what normally happens?" Rachel asked, curious. 

"No," Quinn said, grinning to herself. "Almost never. Usually the magazine or photographer own them. Frannie has a sister-in-law who's a clever lawyer. She helped write my contracts with the photographers and Playboy." 

"I thought she didn't approve of the whole modeling thing," Rachel said. 

"No, but she made sure I was protected," Quinn said. "Of course, I had to agree to be godmother to her daughters in exchange." 

"That's sweet," Rachel said, smiling. "How many does she have now?" 

"One, so far," Quinn said, sighing. "And sweet isn't exactly how I would put it. Being a Fabray godmother can be expensive." 

"Really?" 

"Oh yeah. Birthday presents, Christmas presents, vacation trips, savings bonds. And that's just the tip of the godmother iceberg. Which I would rather not think about right now." 

"Okay," Rachel said, though from her expression Quinn knew Rachel wouldn't drop it completely. "And now the envelope. No more distractions," Rachel said. 

"They're just going to want to renew their license," Quinn said. "Which they can request. But I don't have to agree to. And won't unless they offer a lot of money. Which they probably won't. The pictures aren't bad but they aren't Playmate of the Month, or even Year, material." 

"I think they're great," Rachel said. 

"You're biased," Quinn said, with a wink in Rachel's direction. "It's a business. A few of my photos might make them money on their website. Their magazine audience is after a different look. My photos, no matter how airbrushed, aren't that look. Which helped me retain control of them." 

"So, the pictures will just disappear and everyone will forget?" Rachel asked. "Clever." 

"Well, the official ones," Quinn said. "You can't stop the pirates. Or anyone else who's copied them. Put something on the internet and it never leaves. But no one else gets to make money from me. Except me." 

"Ah," Rachel murmured. "Open," she said firmly, holding up the envelope. 

Opening her eyes, Quinn grabbed the envelope Rachel was dangling in front of her eyes. And the letter opener that appeared in her other hand. "Impatient, much?" 

"I've been exceedingly patient," Rachel said, sitting down next to her. "What's it say?" she asked, watching Quinn go through a small stack of paper. 

"This one is the web publication license renewal request, as expected," Quinn said. "Looks just like the last one." Ripping it in half, she tossed it over her shoulder. 

"Quinn!" 

"If they really want the photos they'll send another one with a better offer," Quinn said. "Huh, this one is a request to use several photos as part of an interview with a certain someone who may be appearing on Broadway. Need to have the lawyer-in-law look at that one," she said, putting it down, with another wink for Rachel. 

"Do they say which pictures?" Rachel asked eagerly. 

Quinn handed her a proof sheet. "Some or all of these," she said. "And one or two new ones of us together." 

"That's a lot," Rachel said. "Will they let you pick them? They need to be tasteful or the producers won't approve." 

"They'll claim editorial control, so no. They'll want something attention-getting to bookend your interview, I suspect," Quinn said, shaking her head. "And they won't want to pay because they can claim it's supporting your interview." 

"Sneaky," Rachel said. 

"Typical," Quinn said. "No decisions on that one until the lawyer-in-law looks at it. And then we can have that meeting with your investors." 

"Okay. I'll let Amanda know tomorrow that you're checking into the magazine offer. She'll understand." 

"Really? She's your agent, not mine," Quinn said. 

"You're the one with the most to lose here," Rachel said. "For the play, and me, it's just extra, unexpected publicity. And she want to be your agent also." 

"I don't need an agent, remember?" Quinn said. "I have a job already." 

"You say that now," Rachel said. "But we can talk about that later." Quinn nodded. "This one looks interesting." She held up another document. "They're sponsoring a round of 'Women of American Ninja Warrior', with Coach Sylvester as the 'host'." 

"And your part?" Rachel said, clearly puzzled. 

"You have no idea what that is, do you," Quinn said, laughing. 

"Um, no. Some kind of sports exhibition?" Rachel said. "With ninjas?" 

"Think game show obstacle course," Quinn said. Picking up the remote, she turned on the TV and started flipping through the On-Demand channels. "Here you go," she said, selecting a channel. 

* * *

"That was different," Rachel said an hour later, after they'd watched several episodes of American Ninja Warrior. "So, you'd be one of the contestants?" 

"Yup. Quote - The plucky cheerleader slash Playboy model with her Broadway actress girlfriend - End Quote," Quinn said, reading from several sheets stapled together. 

"How realistic is it? Some of those stunts looked very dangerous," Rachel said. 

"Not sure, exactly," Quinn said. "We'll have to consult an expert." 

"Puck?" Rachel said. 

"Puck," Quinn agreed, with a laugh. "Not sure I'm in shape for that but it could be fun. That'll go off to the lawyer-in-law also," she added. 

"Is there anything else in the envelope?" Rachel asked. 

"Another copy of the web publication contract," Quinn said, holding it up. A large yellow Post-It dead center. 

"They know you," Rachel said, laughing. "What's the Post-It say?" 

"'For Ninja Warrior promotional purposes' and a phone number." 

"Lawyer pile?" Rachel said. 

"Lawyer pile," Quinn echoed. "Darn it!" 

"So, Lucy Cue is going to make a comeback?" Rachel asked, pulling Quinn over to her side of the couch. 

"I don't know," Quinn said, wrapping an arm around her. "Ninja Warrior could be fun." 

"And Santana will be jealous," Rachel said. 

"Definitely," Quinn said, nodding. "Spending a couple days with Coach Sylvester wouldn't be too bad either." 

"No nudity," Rachel said. "That's a plus." 

"Except what I've already done," Quinn countered. 

"Sleep on it?" Rachel suggested. 

"Yes. I'll send things off to the lawyer in the morning," Quinn said. "Can we cuddle tonight?" 

"Of course," Rachel said. "Need to stock up if I'm going to be sharing your charms." 

"Shelby won't be happy," Quinn said, rolling off the couch. Standing up, she pulled Rachel up into her arms. "The gossips in Stars Hollow will go crazy over this one. It'll be a bigger scandal than me living with an actress." 

"What's wrong with living with an actress," Rachel said, pouting. "We're wonderful people." 

"It's a quaint old town," Quinn said. "You're just one step up from 'circus folk' and gypsies." 

"Would it help if I found a part playing a gypsy fortune teller in a circus?" she asked, giggling. "You'd have a triple play then." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1.** Reminder - everything (Everything!) about Playboy in this fic series is fictional. Especially the bits about Quinn owning/controlling her photos. I'm making it up for story purposes. Playboy would never go for that.  
>  **2.** There is no Sue Sylvester hosted version of any of the Ninja Warrior shows. American or the original Japanese. That is VERY fictional.  
> 
> 
>  **Important Note:** This is the last of the prewritten chapters/sections. From here the posting frequency will drastically slow down. The goal is to have this finished before [NaNoWriMo](http://nanowrimo.org) (of this year) in November (I've finished it 3 years in a row now, but it kills the muse for months afterward.)


End file.
